


Clean Up In Dairy

by kittykat2892



Category: 2P Hetalia - Fandom
Genre: 2P North Italy - Freeform, Dominant Luciano, F/M, Grocery Cashier, Grocery Store, Public-ish Sex, Reader-Insert, Slight dub-con if you squint, That Job Sucks, Tsundere Reader, Ultimately Consenting, old story, re-post, ripped clothes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-06
Updated: 2015-05-06
Packaged: 2018-03-29 06:30:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3885898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittykat2892/pseuds/kittykat2892
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As a working college student, your job as a grocery cashier is not the absolute best job, but it's important. Luciano fails to understand this, believing he is the most important thing in your life (and he might be right).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clean Up In Dairy

**Author's Note:**

> This is a re-post of an old story originally on DeviantArt. DA deleted it, so here it is. I am no longer in the fandom, but I promised to re-post any deleted works.
> 
> Also, the back dock area of a grocery store (at least at the one where I work) is where the store receives its shipments of products. My store's back dock is its receiving area, storage area, and connected to the milk cooler.

A beautiful day reaches through the windows – the sun's rays warmly greet and beg you to come outside to enjoy a well-deserved break. Scowling at the sunlight, you turn your back on it in favor of the twelve cash registers behind you. Of course you'd be stuck at work on such a gorgeous day that does nothing for your already foul mood. While it's your fault for agreeing to come into work on your day off, that doesn't give your Italian friend the right to chew you a new one when you canceled your plans for the morning. What else could you have done with your desperate need for money hanging over your head?

A customer approaches you asking about where she can find rice or some type of noodles. Your patience already thin, you snap more than you probably should when answering her, but she doesn't seem to notice or mind and goes about her business after thanking you. Sighing, you attempt to reign in your boiling emotions so you can get through the rest of your shift without any mishaps. Your bosses are already watching you closely after Luciano stormed into the store a few weeks ago looking for a fight – another wrong move and you're automatically fired. Head hanging low, you trudge to the front of your register and wait for the rush of customers the hour will bring. With the end of your shift still some hours away, you resign yourself to annoyance and stupidity.

At least until the doors slide open and reveal none other than an irate Luciano Vargas. Groaning inwardly, you act as if you haven't seen him enter the store, hoping he'll leave without causing a scene. Of course your expectations are shattered when Luciano appears at your side and tightly clenches his fist around your wrist. Wincing, you cast him a wicked glare and discreetly begin pulling against his iron grip.

“Turn your light off and come with me,” Luciano hisses, his tone of voice leaving you no room to disagree. Heavy-hearted, knowing this will be more than enough to get you fired, you do as your friend directs and allow him to pull you back into the store. You receive strange looks while Luciano is the receiver of glares and suspicious glances. Neither of you pay attention to the customers, and he drags you into the combination loading dock and storage area of the store.

Ripping your hand from his grasp, you grace Luciano with a glare comparable to Medusa's. His strangely-colored, almost pink, eyes return the gaze with varying strength. Gloved hands clench before snapping out to trap your shoulders in an unescapable iron vice. Your glare doesn't fade, though your heart stutters under the Italian's touch. Only a fool wouldn't fear the man standing before you, but the twinge of terror that comes with the knowledge that he can snap you in half is strangely exciting. Yet while it's the fool who wouldn't fear Luciano, it's the complete idiot who befriends the sadist – a title that solely belongs to you.

“What the hell do you want? I'm busy,” you scoff, attempting to shake free to no avail.

“What I want is for you to stop trying to avoid me. You know it never goes over well.” His silky voice wraps around your stuttering heart, trying to suffocate you from its pure sultriness. A terrible liar at best, you're surprised Luciano hasn't caught on to your reactions to some of the normal, every day things he does.

“I'm not avoiding you, stupid. I'm a college student mostly paying her own way through school. When an opportunity arises for extra money, I have to jump on it.” You hope the ice in your voice masks the crazy beating and humming in your body. Luciano's eyes flash dangerously at being called stupid, and before you know it, he has you pinned against the door to the milk cooler, his unusually pristine face inches from your own.

“How many times have I told you that I will help with that idiotic tuition of yours if you will simply do everything I say?” He purrs, running his knuckles along your jawline and sending shudders of apprehensive pleasure racing through your skin. Shoving the rising emotions to the side, you muster up a half-hearted glare in reply, causing the dark-haired brunette to smile lazily before leaning closer to softly brush his lips against yours.

Freezing, your rigid body refuses to push him away while your mind processes what's happening. By the time your mind coerces your body into moving, Luciano's hands rest against the cooler's metal on either side of your head, and his warm lips move against yours. Enticing a thought as it may be to make-out with the lustful Italian, your common sense and survival instinct kick in, giving you the strength to push Luciano back a couple of steps.

“Luciano, stop it! Even if I wanted to do this, I'm at work. My bosses are just looking for a reason to fire me, and I really don't need you messing things up for me again,” you snap, averting your eyes and crossing your arms in front of your chest, inadvertently pushing your breasts up in a provocative manner. Chuckling, Luciano wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you against him, trapping your arms between your chests. Every detail in his glittering eyes makes itself known to you the closer he presses his face to yours.

Your dwindling strength does nothing under the Italian's sultry gaze, though your vocal cords continue to work in the form of a quiet yelp when Luciano's palm runs up your side and roughly caresses your raised breast. Biting your lip, you use every bit of upper arm strength your job has given you and break out of his strong grasp. Growling at the smirking brunette, you try to take a few steps away from him, but he follows and once again traps you.

“Isn't that the thrill, though? The chance of being caught doing something pleasurable in so important a place?” Luciano murmurs, hanging his head and softly pressing his lips against your neck. Shudders wrack your frame as his plush lips expertly work against your skin. You continue to try and push the larger man away – to stop him from molesting you at work – but when he slides his tongue along your neck to just under your ear, the cracks in your resolve widen a little more.

“You may deny me, but I will get what I want in the end,” the Italian whispers in your ear, his hot breath flaring through you and exciting every one of your nerve endings. Panting from the exertion of keeping your control intact, you struggle to slip beneath his extended arms until he uses his body to pin you to the milk cooler's door. Taking your open mouth as an opportunity, Luciano leans down and his tongue slithers between your parted lips before you have the opportunity to fight him off.

Feebly pushing against his chest, your eyes close of their own volition and your tongue takes the bait of grappling with Luciano's for some form of dominance. One of his hands slips from the metal door behind you to glide along your neck and caress your flushed cheek. You try to wrestle his tongue back into his mouth, but with every empowered movement of yours, Luciano triumphs in the kiss. A soft grunt sounds deep in your throat when the back of your head hits the cooler door, followed by a soft moan that Luciano swallows when his hand makes its way down to fondle your breasts.

The situation reasserts itself when you hear an announcement over the intercom calling for you to come back to the front of the store. Luciano completely ignores the voice, but you bite his tongue and force him to withdraw from the kiss, practically spitting and growling. You may have just signed your death warrant, but you weren't going to let him just have his way. No means no, even if you enjoyed the unexpected kiss.

“Luciano, I said no. This job is too important to lose--”

In a split second, you feel something terribly cold and unyielding against the side of your neck. The only indication you give Luciano that you're aware of the danger is a slow blink and barely audible gulp. The lazy smirk he flashes you holds a tinge of his hidden psychotic tendencies as he closes the distance between the two of you again.

“You claim the job is too important to lose, but what's more important? The job or your life?”

Through gritted teeth, you cautiously reply, “My pride.”

Silence follows your answer until Luciano's chuckles reach your ears, and he lowers the knife. A soft sigh of relief passes your lips, but is quickly cut short when the Italian runs the flat end of the blade along your clothed thigh.

“Such an entertaining piece of art you are, bella. You never fail to entertain me,” he purrs, “which is one of the reasons why I want to own you.”

Mustering up your courage, you lift your chin and stare down Luciano though if he listens he'll hear the fluttering hummingbird of a heart beneath your breast. “We can talk about this later, Luciano, when we're alone. Anyone can walk in and see us, and I really don't want them trying to send you to jail for pulling a knife on me.”

An amused Luciano grins as if you've told him a phenomenal joke and clicks his tongue. He reaches around and pulls the handle to the cooler, opening it a crack before it stops against your back. You grunt in annoyance, but the dark brunette doesn't pay you any mind as he grabs your arm and tugs you around the door and into the milk cooler.

“This will have to be private enough for you,” the Italian says while grabbing a display rack used to hold defected food and pushing it so it both blocks and keeps the cooler door open. With a huff, you cross your arms and turn your back to him, your unnatural heartbeat pounding in your ears. There's no way you'll be able to fend off Luciano. In all the time you've known him, he's always gotten what he wants one way or another, and you'd be lying if you said you weren't flattered about him wanting you. However, there's always a time and a place for such things and in the milk cooler at your work is definitely not the place.

You open your mouth to say as much when Luciano walks up to you. His mouth catching yours again cuts off any form of resistance. He entices your tongue into slipping out of your mouth, quickly turning the tables when he lightly sucks on the appendage. A barely audible moan sounds from you at the feeling, spurring the sadistic Italian to run a hand from your hip to your chest. An alarm in the back of your mind warns you that his other hand still grasps his precious knife – that doing anything other than what Luciano wants will probably result in heavy amounts of blood loss. Even with the threat of physical pain hanging over your head like storm clouds, a twinge of excitement begins to pool in your stomach.

Luciano sees the responsiveness to the kiss as a sign of surrender on your behalf, his hand gently squeezing one of your breasts and pinching your nipple through your uniform. Your breath hitches, pleasure spiking from your chest to your core, and the Italian hums into the kiss. His expertise far overshadows your own, shown in how he runs circles around your tongue with his own, sending thrills shooting through nerves you weren't even aware existed. You don't want to let him know what he's doing to you – you don't want to give him the satisfaction – but the soft moans and grunts released into your kiss betray your wants.

His hand moves from your breast to the hem of your shirt, slipping beneath it and running the expanse of your stomach. A hiss escapes your busied lips at the touch of his cold fingers on your skin. Shivers travel through you, half from his touch and half from the chill in the cooler. Noticing the reaction, Luciano's hand glides to your breast, dragging your shirt up the length of his arm, and slips under your bra to caress the heated area. If not for the kiss, your groans would probably be louder than what can be considered safe.

“It will be interesting to see if you're able to keep silent,” Luciano murmurs when he breaks the kiss, eyeing your flushed cheeks with relish. You open your mouth, a sharp retort on the tip of your tongue, until a ripping sound reaches your ears. It takes a few seconds for you to realize the tip of the Italian's knife is cutting up the side of your uniform, stopping only when he reaches your shoulder. Heat floods your cheeks. You try to pull away from him, shaking your head, yet Luciano follows and pins you to the back of the cooler where the two of you are shielded from the display doors by a large crate of milk.

Before you're able to say anything, Luciano rips your uniform across the front from the cut he made, baring your bra-clad chest to the cold air. Much to your chagrin, your nipples noticeably rise alongside the goosebumps that appear on your skin. Raising your arms, you try to hide your body's betrayal, though Luciano's glittering eyes don't miss a detail. His hand slithers underneath your arm and lightly presses his fingers against your raised buds through the fabric. Your chest jerks towards him before you regain your senses and press your back against the wall in a lame attempt of keeping distance between Luciano and you.

Chuckling at how cute your attempts are, the Italian closes what little distance you made, running the flat end of the blade across your bare side and stomach. The combined chill of the blade and the cooler casts uncontrollable shivers through your limbs, only intensified by the stark contrast of Luciano's warm hand sliding under your bra to pinch your nipple. A whimper earns you another pinch to your breast, your head falling to rest against the wall. Your eyes focus on the ceiling, sharp pinpricks stinging at the corner of your eyes. His soft chuckles encase you, sends you to a dangerous place bordering danger, excitement, and pleasure. How can you continue lying to yourself under those skilled fingers manipulating your breasts? You can't keep up the facade, especially when he ducks his head and nips at an exceptionally sensitive area just under your ear. His fingers bite into your breast upon hearing the rewarding sweet cry you give him.

Luciano sucks and nips along your neck – leaving hickeys in his wake – to your mouth, nibbling at your bottom lip as if asking for permission to kiss you. Gritting your teeth, you forcefully turn your head to the side, refusing to give into the heat roiling in your stomach. A growl meets your ears seconds before the edge of his knife lightly slides across your stomach. It doesn't hurt so much as sting, but the feeling still catches your attention. He bites the other side of your neck, his fangs drawing small droplets of blood, and you shudder at the pain. The Italian laps up the small amount of blood, groaning in approval at the taste. The next time he melds his lips with yours, you almost immediately allow him entrance, fearing he'll continue to punish you if you don't do as he wishes.

Just because you give into Luciano's advances doesn't mean you won't continue to fight back in a way that will hopefully keep your blood in your veins. You gently trap Luciano's questing tongue between your teeth, cautiously bringing your hand to rest on the small of his back just above the hem of his pants. He wiggles his hips, his half-lidded eyes studying your scrunched face while he tries to free his tongue from your sweet prison. You hook your fingers under the hem of his pants and boxers, kneading down to one buttock which has him thrusting against your hips. His excited member pokes at your inner thigh. Your core contracts at the thoughts of what Luciano can do to you, and as much as you try to stem the heat, you feel liquid pooling at your entrance.

Luciano breaks the kiss, his lips lingering over the blooming hickeys as he trails down to your chest. Whimpering pants follow every kiss, suck and bite he gives you. He details your collarbone with his tongue, nips along your cleavage, and drags his tongue along every exposed inch of skin while he tugs your bra down beneath your breasts. His lips wrap around one raised bud – he swirls his tongue around it, laps at it every few seconds – before giving the same attention to your other breast. It's only when his cold fingers slip beneath your pants and underwear to press against your clitoris that your stubbornness truly begins to dissolve with each helpless mewl.

The sound of one of the milk doors opening startles you into silence. You practically feel Luciano's smirk against your chest, which is your only warning before he pinches your clit between his index and thumb. Your strangled squeak is hidden by the slamming of the cooler door as the customer finishes choosing their milk and walks away. The half-lidded glare you grace Luciano with has no power seeing as how the Italian smirks that lazy smirk of his that drives you wild and continues running his index finger over your pleasure spot. Your hips twitch and wriggle, trying their best to escape the torturous digits. You beg and plead with Luciano to stop – your voice reaches a higher and higher tone with every passing moment, your mewls morphing into keens and soft yelps. After a few heart-pounding moments, the doors open again. You bite your tongue so hard, you taste blood, but you release a yelp when Luciano's fingernail gently scrapes around your clitoris.

After a few awkward moments, you hear the door slam shut. Your sigh of relief is short-lived when your Italian partner falls to his knees, dragging your pants with him, and replaces his finger with his tongue. Pleased noises spill from your throat uninhibited, spurring Luciano to slowly drag his tongue from your bud to your dripping entrance. Your hands find their way to his head, threading into his hair to find some semblance of stability. In your haze of pleasure, you forget about his curl, and your hand brushes against it. His growl reverberates throughout your being, concentrating in the unbelievable heat under your pelvis. A few of the doors into the milk cooler's display opens one after the other, and no matter how hard you try to keep silent, Luciano does an even better job at milking verbal pleasure from you.

You throw your head back, digging your fingers into his scalp when he slams two of his fingers deep into your entrance, gaping at the ceiling like a fish out of water. His tongue and thumb team up on your pleasure bud even as his fingers thrust in and out of you, wriggling against a miraculous spot you believed to only be a myth that sends indescribable waves of pleasure shooting through your nerves. Throwing your head from side to side, you bring one hand up to your mouth and bite into the skin to keep from screaming. You practically feel the Italian's smirk against your skin. He curls his fingers, and the cracking dam of pleasure breaks in a torrent of white-hot light. You squeal as you orgasm around his still pumping fingers, trailing his tongue down to lap up the droplets of juices that escape your womanhood.

Another announcement comes over the intercom, the voice sounding annoyed as they call you back up to the front again. How much time has passed? They may send someone to look for you soon. The stock boys may need to come into the cooler to re-stock the milk or get something else for a customer. So many what-if scenarios, and yet you find your ability to care slipping under Luciano's hungry kiss after he stands and meshes your mouths together. You automatically respond, parting your lips and thrusting your tongue out to meet Luciano's, the taste of yourself in his mouth intoxicating. You don't notice his busy hands undoing the button of his brown pants until he ducks and lifts one of your legs so he has more room to rub the tip of his shaft against your still twitching clitoris.

“N-No more...!” You breathe, pulling your head back only to stay connected by a thin trail of saliva. Luciano chuckles, thrusting his hips so his tip presses against you with every movement. Your eyes roll in the back of your head, the mind-numbing feeling rekindling the warm pool in your pelvis.

“There's plenty more, bella, if only you'll ask me for it,” Luciano purrs, adjusting his hips so the head of his member slips just inside your entrance before he resumes his teasing. Frantically, you shake your head, tears pooling in the corners of your eyes.

“Luciano,” you moan, hating how needy you sound – hating how much you want to feel him buried as deep as humanly possible in your body.

“I'm waiting,” he murmurs against your lips, once more thrusting the head of his shaft into you before pulling away completely. Groaning in frustration, you wrap your arms around his neck and open your eyes.

“Please, Luciano. I want you inside me. Fuck me. Make me scream,” you beg in a rushed expulsion of words.

His grin sends chills down your spine that not even being in the cooler could cause, yet before you can change your mind, he sheathes himself to the hilt in your sopping wet core. Your mind blanks at the overwhelming feeling of being filled and your muscles contract in an attempt to adjust to his girth. Luciano gives you no time, however, pulling out completely before slamming back into you. Your nails dig into his back and you press your mouth against his neck, hoping his body will muffle your cries and screams.

To your surprise, he sneaks a hand down and runs his fingers over your clitoris in time with his thrusts, biting at the same area he bit just a few moments ago. The over-stimulation turns your legs to jelly, and if not for Luciano holding you up, you'd sink to the ground in nothing better than a puddle. With one orgasm already behind you, it doesn't take long for the heat to reach its breaking point again. A shrill scream heralds your second climax. You feel your nails break Luciano's skin and draw blood, but it seems the added pain only serves to send him over the edge. His moan travels right to your pounding heart even as his seed shoots deep into your body.

Luciano slips out of you, gently kissing the now bruised and bloodied area on your neck – a stark contrast to how he usually acts – and fixes his pants. The most you can do is fix your bra to where you're not bare-chested and pull your pants up, but there's absolutely nothing to be done for your destroyed shirt. You look to the Italian to say as much, but quiet when you see him holding out his jacket to you. You take the offered cloth in silence, slipping the large piece of clothing over your torso after escaping from the tattered shirt.

Keeping your gaze averted from him, you don't realize Luciano is standing mere inches from you until it's far too late to escape him. He tightly grips your chin and forces you to look at him, his cerise eyes glaring into your own.

“You are mine, bella.”

You shake your head, tugging your chin from his fingers, but the heat flooding your cheeks lets him know you're not entirely adverse to the idea.


End file.
